Pierre...again?!

It was over. "I'm done with wanting to wear designer clothes and attending fancy Parisian soirees and events." I thought to myself almost two weeks ago.

"I am finished with you." I tell him now, over the phone. "No, no." he replies. "I will be outside in 5 minutes." he continues. "Outside where?" I ask. "Outside of your school." he says.

This week, I've started taking French lessons twice a week, so I wonder how will I really have time to live, love, work, play, shop, eat and hang out with friends in Paris? Did I mention work?

"Oh.Ok." is the only thing I say to Pierre as I hang up the phone.

We have lunch:

Steak, potatoes and a small salad, with a glass of wine.

"I am afraid to fall in love with you." he tells me over lunch. "That is why our relationship is difficult." he continues. I laugh in my mind at the words as I wonder how many women's eyes he's looked into with those words rolling out of his mouth, dripping with a soft romantic french accent. I smile and say (very slowly), "Pierre, I-Am-Finished."
His expression turns to concern, "With your food?" he asks in the same sincerity.

He can always make me laugh. "No. With you!" I tell him, knowing he does not believe me.

He orders dessert immediatly:

Dessert

I love Dessert!

"Here are two tickets for you." He says pulling out printed tickets and a brochure from his wallet. "You won't go with me. It is impossible. So here, take them." They are for a concert. I read them slowly, wondering if Roger (a very nice man) would like to go with me. "Thank you." I say in sincerity.

As he slowly hands me both tickets, he asks, "You will go?" "Yes." I reply (thinking of another man). He quickly reaches over to take one ticket away. I blink my eyes. "You will only need one." he says. (Once again, I am reminded that he's so much older and more clever than I am. I feel trapped.)

"Then I will meet you there, but I will be 30 minutes late, so you must go to the seat, here, Orchestere, section B-12." He tells me in French and English combined.

"What just happened?", I ask myself as the bubble above my head holding 'a very nice man' pops.

"Let's go, I will make you coffee at my apartment." he says, before I can figure out the previous scenario. "Okay." I reply.

Outside in the fresh air, I regain my focus. "Thank you for the lunch, but No, Pierre. I cannot join you for coffee. I have to go back to my apartment." Like a child, he starts to yell in the street. "You are STUPIEED! STUPEED!" then turns with his elbow out towards me to escort me to his apartment. I look at the audience of men and women beside me, as they watch and wonder, what I will do.

Standing on the busy sidewalk of Paris, I don't have a reply, except, "Pierre?!" I say..."You are Stupid, an Impossible woman!" he yells at me. I wonder if they understand? I think about the audience as they watch me along with Pierre, now waiting for a reply.

I smile, just as I see the golden arches of McDonald's from the corner of my eye. "Come inside, go to the ladies room." I hear the arches say. "I have to go." I reply to Pierre with a nervous smile, although from the pit of my stomach I want to cry. I watch him walk in the opposite direction as I walk towards the 'Golden Arches'. I hear applause in my mind, and I smile instead of crying.